Bang, Bang
by keep-swinging
Summary: The feeling of the bullet never leaves. Barry's overwhelmed mind can't take anymore. Iris is there to give him the comfort he needs about the future, and about everything else. / Westallen, dark!Barry, hurt!Barry, heavy angst, heavy hurt&comfort and romance.


~Author's Note~

Hey guys! Sorry about my absence, life just hasn't been great these past few months but no worries because I'm back now. So this actually turned out way more depressing than I had originally aimed for? But that's okay. Personally, I like the Savitar arc, loved the musical episode and all the westallen is awesome. But, that's just me.

I guess this fic can be categorized as a reaction fic to 3x17, but also as a 'darker turn of the episode' type thing with Barry's thoughts and things alike, so definitely a strong teen rating here. I think that's all, hope you guys enjoy and leave a review with your thoughts if you'd like.

 **Rated Teen** for some language, heavy angst, heavy hurt and comfort, and some suicidal thoughts.

 **Notes:** _Spoilers_ for Season 1, Episodes 15 and 16 of Legends of Tomorrow. Also, I'm like eight episodes behind on Supergirl so if some facts are wrong I'm sorry. XD

* * *

 **Bang, Bang**

* * *

Dying is not at all what Barry thought it would feel like.

He honestly thought it would be cold spreading through his body, or the feel of his heart decelerating. A gunshot wound isn't quick, or painless, either.

(Eddie died this way, Barry recalls, and holds back a sob at the thought.)

Kara calls for him and then hits the ground beside him, but he barely hears her. It's like drowning underwater. That's the easiest way Barry can describe it—it, _dying_. It's equivalent to being under the lapping waves of the infinite, murky ocean; unable to find your way back up. Drowning in an abyss that's endless sucks, to put it lightly.

Another thing that's shocking to Barry in his lethargic state is the fact that there's no cold. It's all warmth. The blood forming under his shirt is tepid and his veins feel like they're on fire. He doesn't know if it's the Speed Force trying to save him or not. Or maybe it's just how death is.

Not quick, not painless and definitely not cold.

Kara calls out his name two more times. Her voice is shaky, and Barry feels like she's begging him to help her, to take the pain away. But he can't. He feels his lips move, hears himself mutter a garbled attempt at Kara's name, and just doing that causes red to flash in his vision like a warning sign. He tries to continue on, even going as far to push himself upright, but that falls short and his back hits the pavement harder than intended.

Barry firmly believes that this is it, that he's going to die in this musical of all things, that this is his hurt ending and his anguish finally going away. This is escaping this planet and the evil residing in it. The corners of his vision dwindle into black slowly, and he almost hates how death isn't quick.

Does every person suffer like this before dying?

How long until his mom actually took her last breath? Did his dad witness Barry's scream as Zoom killed him? Did Eddie hear Iris one last time? Did Ronnie get a final glance at Caitlin? Was Snart watching Sara through the explosion, through the flames?

(He still remembers the call he received from Rip after it had happened— _Snart died a hero, Barry_ —and he also remembers how he cried, how he grieved because even criminals don't deserve to just _die_.)

A distraught scream tears through his thoughts, though he can't quite hear exactly what it says. He thinks it's his name. A male voice calls out Kara's but before he can think about it too much someone is crouched down beside him, warm hands searching his body for the wound urgently.

The hands graze the wound through his shirt and he winces. The hands nearly freeze in place before checking over the rest of his torso. The voice reaches him through the thick haze in his mind after a minute and with half-lidded eyes he finally focuses enough on the face above him, on Iris.

Her hands slide down to his sides, and the warmth increases. She's saying things to him, things that aren't sticking with him because his head feels woozy and his body feels too deflated. His head keeps moving back on it's own account, Iris noticing and reaching her hands up to try to keep him still and lessen the strain on his wound from moving around so much.

He closes his eyes for a split second at her tender touch and the next time he opens them her hand is on his cheek. Through the fog he finds himself smile and knows exactly what he wants his last words to be. Because if this future is going to be reversed, because if he's going to die in her arms instead of the other way around, there's nothing else he rather say.

"I love you."

It's hard to keep his eyes open now and the blood feels too heavy on his upper body. Her lips move and he desperately tries to hang onto them, tries to hang onto life longer for her, and only her, even if he's not too sure he wants it anymore.

"No Barry, Barry, you're gonna be okay." He can't hold the black at bay anymore. His eyes slip shut and he hears a final shuddering gasp escape from Iris, "No," but it's too late, and Barry feels himself slip away.

When Barry wakes up hooked up to machines and bedridden in S.T.A.R Labs with Iris clinging to him, he finds himself wishing it was real. He finds himself wishing he was dead. Even with Iris' lips pressing against his and her trembling hand grasping onto his own in a anxious attempt to reassure herself that he's really there and with her—even with all that—Barry finds it still isn't enough to reel him back in from the ocean he almost drowned in just minutes before.

The lasting feel of death chokes him in the airy room.

* * *

There isn't actually a bullet hole in his chest but it sure as hell feels like it every time he tries to move, or tries to run. Iris is steady at his side the rest of the day, a clutch to an injury that's not physical, and when night falls he proposes to her. Again.

It takes all of him to sing instead of cry, but by the end of it all he's glad he did. The look on her face is worth it all. Admittedly, when she says yes, his heart constricts because _don't love me, don't love me, don't love me, I don't deserve your love, I don't deserve you_ is the mantra stuck in his brain but that tumbles away when they hug.

Her hair smells like the tangy orange shampoo she uses, and as she burrows herself into his chest as far as she can and wraps her arms around him, his thoughts are all on her— _how could I ever leave her, I love her so much_ —but his thoughts are also in limbo. Because there's a small part of him that is bleeding and won't stop and—and _you should've died back there, Flash_.

You can survive a bullet but Eddie can't? You can survive the Speed Force but Jay can't? You can survive a singularly but Ronnie can't? You can survive a nuclear explosion but Snart can't? You can survive a _gunshot_ —

"Babe." Barry's reflections are abruptly put to a stop when Iris' soft voice reaches his ears, and his hurting heart instantly melts. She's no longer hugging him, but her hand is anchored on his arm. "Are you—"

 _No_ , his brain shouts. _No I'm not okay, I'm not okay, I'm not okay, I'm not_ —

"I'm fine," he mumbles quietly, stretching his lips into a tight smile.

The only reason he was able to sing that song was because of her. He didn't have the strength to do it, or the right mental state, but he was able to do it. Because of her. She stares at him a moment more, a moment too long he thinks, but then she nods her head towards their bedroom across the apartment.

"Why don't you go get washed?"

As if on cue he gets a strong whiff of himself, slick with sweat and the lingering smell of leather from his suit, and his smile weakens.

Iris frowns, "Hey. You don't have to be by yourself if you don't want to. I could join you, help you. I know you're still sore—"

Again, without thinking, he cuts her off before she can finish.

"I'll be fine." He repeats from earlier, even though his weak body seems to plead for him to agree with her instead. He's so exhausted and her help would be so much better than having to struggle to do it himself. His shoulder hurts like a bitch and so does his entire body. As he opens his mouth to retract his former statement, he finds his tongue doesn't want to move and the words don't want to come out.

Iris takes his unchanged answer and her hands falls from his skin.

"Let me at least get your clothes then," she says as she turns without waiting for a reply and walks into their bedroom. He follows sluggishly, leaning his back against the door-frame in patient wait as she picks out his casual pajamas. She grabs a loose pair of black sweats and some grey boxers before looking up at him. "Shirt or no shirt, Bear?"

Barry shrugs in noncommittal agreement for either, and just as he's about to say _no shirt_ ; the startling feeling of sticky, gooey blood seems to drip down his chest at the inquiry.

"Shirt, please," he whispers, and Iris does so, closing the drawers of the dresser and walking into the attached bathroom, Barry following. She places his clothes on top of the already-placed white fluffy towel on the sink and runs a hand across his sore shoulder as she walks past.

The throbbing ceases at her soothing touch, if only for a moment.

"Call me if you need anything, okay?"

He nods and she walks back into their bedroom to prepare for bed, leaving Barry alone in the bathroom. He doesn't bother to close the door as he turns on the shower and sheds his clothes, which pile in a heap on the floor, before stepping under the stream of lukewarm water.

The warm water acts as a drug to his body, numbing the soreness of his shoulder and dulling the pain branching out all over his chest. Reaching his hands up to rub the shampoo into his hair is a skirmish and he nearly calls Iris in because of how much it hurts to do such simple things but he pushes the thought away and within twenty minutes he's done getting washed.

He hesitates before turning the water off though and instead sighs and leans his head against the damp wall, closing his eyes for a moment. He didn't understand why the Speed Force hadn't fixed the ache in his chest yet, or rushed to repair his shoulder either. It could've been on purpose of course, but the Speed Force had just threw him through the wringer a few days prior, butting heads with him when it had refused to allow Wally out without a speedster in his place.

So maybe it was letting this invisible pain linger because he deserved it, he deserved a lesson learned by it. Barry swears he did though. Besides the obvious of Iris and him needing each other to get through this upcoming future, along with Kara and Mon-El needing to understand that they needed to forgive either other, Barry also learned that he needed to remember that he was human.

And humans can't outrun bullets.

Kara is not physically a human, she's an alien, but she is mentally.

And humans aren't bulletproof, either.

Barry and Kara had gotten too far from their roots of being human, and that's why things were spiraling—or one of the reasons why, anyway. God, he just wanted a break. He just wanted to close himself in a deep, dark hole and never leave. He just wanted—

"Bear? You okay in there?"

Iris' voice reaches him from outside of the shower curtain, shutting down his thoughts once again. Barry exhales shakily before opening his eyes and turning, seeing the outline of her body in the open doorway through the curtain.

The water continues to stream down his back as he runs a hand a runs it through his wet hair, realizing a second too late how that wasn't a smart idea as pain flared up in his shoulder and he winced.

"Barry." Iris repeats, firmer this time, and he sees her take a step towards the shower this time. He isn't oblivious to the tone of concern hidden in her voice, or the fidgeting of her form.

"Sorry," he calls out, reaching over and shutting off the water.

The torrent of water comes to a squeaky halt and the final droplets drop onto the pale skin of his forearm. He sees Iris take another step towards the curtain and his stomach tightens for some reason. He doesn't understand why.

"You've been in here for an hour and a half, Barry." He blinks dumbly. An hour and a half?

"What?" He asks bluntly, and Iris shifts from foot to foot.

She's close enough to pull back the curtain if she wanted to, to make sure he's okay. "Usually it only takes you ten or less." She chews on her lip for a moment, debating what to say. "Are you alright?" Barry's chest heaves, from worry or from something else, he doesn't know. It feels like the walls are closing in but they shouldn't be, they shouldn't be, they—

 _I'm not okay. I'm not okay. Iris, I'm not okay. Iris._

He feels himself start to soar away, like something in him is giving up. But before anything else happens, Iris is closing the gap between her and the shower and pulling open the curtain. Barry jumps when he sees her and he feels like a deer in headlights although there's no reason to be because they love each other and there's nothing wrong with her seeing him naked or anything but he's just not right, something's not right.

Her eyes hold sympathy as she reaches a hand out and grips his wrist, fortifying him.

Then she uses her other hand to brush some of the wet hair resting in front of his eyes out of the way so he can see her clearly. She's wearing one of his tee-shirts and some shorts as her pajamas for the night. That's also when Barry realizes her lips are moving and he's not hearing her.

His hearing had gone fuzzy a few moments before, before she had even opened the curtain but he hadn't completely comprehended that they did. The fuzziness goes away after he stares at her drawn face for a minute.

"—you with me Barry? Can you hear me babe?" He nods, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. She smiles at him, and the hold on his wrist grows stronger. "I'm here, babe, okay? You're okay. I'm right here and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You hear me?"

Barry nods again, and he feels slightly pathetic honestly—he's naked in front of his girlfriend, _fiancée_ , his brain reminds him, dealing with the after effects of whatever had just happened to him. He didn't know if it was a panic attack or something worse. But it happened and it feels like he can't move.

"Babe? Barry? You still with me?"

He blinks, focusing his attention back on her.

"Yeah, yeah," he murmurs, voice trembling slightly.

He brings his eyes downward to focus on her hand still attached to his wrist. "Alright . . . alright good. Why don't we try to get you dressed, okay?"

"Okay," he echoes and he looks up in time to see her relieved smile.

Wordlessly, she carefully guides him out of the shower and by the time he's standing in the middle of the bathroom, he's still not okay but he feels like he isn't bound by rope—like he can move freely again. She watches him cautiously as he dries himself off with the towel and pulls on his boxers and sweatpants, and when he turns and looks at her with his shirt in hand she moves forwards and takes it from him.

With a swift but gentle movement she lifts it up and pulls it over top of his head, then down the rest of his body. It's easily two sizes too big for him, but Iris knows that's because it used to be Joe's old tee-shirt that Barry borrowed one night when he was a teenager and never gave back. The Rock-n'-Roll design is weathered, and faded into the background now.

She ruffles his hair as he looks down at her and his lips tug into a slight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Iris' hand falls down and rests on his cheek for a moment before grabbing his hand. She helps escort him out of the bathroom and to the bed with hushed directions here and there.

He lays down mutely and brings the blanket up to his waist, and when she lets go of his hand to go take care of the house, he nearly goes into a frenzy. Iris hears the hitch in his breathing and locks eyes with him, shushing him delicately.

"It's okay, Bear. It's okay. I'm just going to go and make sure the front door is locked and all, okay?"

Barry's heart still thumps wildly in his chest, but his fears lessen considerably with her words. Iris does her evening round of the house; turning off the bathroom light, making sure the front door is locked, turning off any remaining lights and closing any blinds that were still open.

By the time she makes her way back to their bedroom, Barry's laying on his right side, facing her empty side of the bed. She sighs, flicking off the nightlight next to the bed before sliding under the covers and facing him. A sliver of moonlight from the window illuminates his features and her heart tightens at the sight.

His face looks utterly crumbled in the dark and his eyes are glassy. His chest is moving up and down too fast, and his restless hands are shaking against the pillow.

"Oh baby," she whispers, "what'd they do to you?"

And that's all it takes for Barry to lose it.

His façade disintegrates and the tears come out with no restraint, fat and ugly as they fall down his cheeks. He can't take it anymore, he can't take any of it, he can't do it. She feels tears well in her own eyes, seeing him like this, and feels helpless. Somehow she gets her limbs to work and tenderly pulls his body towards her, his face falling into her stomach and his arms wrapping around her. He can't even breathe correctly, he's crying so badly, but he still manages to get her name past his lips.

" _Iris_."

She rubs a hand up and down his back, trying her best to soothe him.

"It's okay, Barry. It's okay. I'm right here."

Barry doesn't know how long he cries for. He doesn't know how long his sobs echo throughout the apartment. But after a while, he's able to calm himself down, with help from Iris' continuous reassurances, but he still clutches onto her like a lifeline. His head is no longer buried into her chest but instead leaning against it, and his face is turned upwards towards the ceiling. Her hands are running through his hair, mussing it up, calming him.

"I can't take anymore, Iris," he says, "I can't take it."

Sometimes, Iris wishes she had the speed. Sometimes she wishes it was the Speed Force in her veins and not his, wishes she could take away his pain for good. But the world works in mysterious ways—and the good suffers more than the bad ever do. Barry continues talking, undeterred.

"I swear come hell or high water I will not let the future happen, I won't let Savitar take you from me or from Joe or Wally. But I can't—I can't take any more pain, Iris. I've lost my mother, my father, Jay's gone now too and so much and I just . . . this future looming over us it," he pauses, closing his eyes, "it scares me Iris. I'm going to do everything I can to protect you, but I'm still fucking terrified that won't be enough."

There it is. His true thoughts about the future.

Iris had been waiting for him to say it for weeks and now that it's finally out in the open, Iris feels tongue-tied on something to say. She knows he's going to do anything in his power to stop her from dying. But she also knows he isn't God. Neither is Savitar.

She looks down at him, and his eyes, as if sensing her looking at him, flutter open and stare back at her. "We're going to get through this, Barry. I know it might not seem like it, but we're going to get through this. The future isn't certain, we've seen that proven multiple times, and this one isn't going to happen."

To reinforce her point she leans down and kisses him, passionate and certain. His lips taste like salt and his cheeks are still slightly wet but she doesn't care. She wants him to listen to her. She wants to take his pain away. When she pulls back he waits a moment before lifting his head and moving it back over to his pillow, but turning his head so that he's still facing her.

She takes one of his hands in hers.

"The night I'm supposed to die," her voice falters on the word, she still has trouble saying it out loud, "I'm not going to. I'm going to be right here, in your arms, like I'm supposed to be. Because I'm ready to be in love with you for the rest of my life and I'm not going to let anything cut that short."

Barry looks at her a moment more before raising her hand to his lips and kissing it, and then smiling. It's broken and battered, but it's there. He's there. "I love you, Iris."

Their lips meet in another kiss, and when it ends Iris repeats the four words she knows by heart.

"I love you too."

With that Barry sniffles and wipes at his eyes a concluding time before slinging an arm around Iris' shoulders and pulling her closer. Her head comes to rest on his chest, and he presses a soft kiss to her forehead as she closes her eyes. She falls asleep to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and Barry looks down at her relaxed face with a smile once she does.

Savitar isn't going to take her away from him. He won't let it happen. Barry swallows, squeezing his own eyes shut. Iris West (Allen) is a beautiful young journalist whose career is just getting started. She's a hell of a fighter and a hell of a writer.

No 'Speed God' is going to kill her.

If the future doesn't change, if things dare go awry, he'll let Savitar kill him instead. Because Barry Allen might not be much, just a CSI whose mother was murdered when he was young and whose father is gone too—but the Flash is much more.

And the Flash would do anything to save the woman who holds his heart.

* * *

 _You gave me no other choice  
but to love you  
all I wanna do is come runnin' home to you  
come runnin' home to you…_


End file.
